Pretty Silver Thing
by Maverick Butterfly
Summary: Harvey's father was a good man. Half the time... Harvey Dent's transformation into Two Face, which happened quite gradually, then very suddenly. Lil' angsty, rather experimental, lots of fragmentation, and in the second person perspective.


Harvey's daddy was a good man… Half the time. (Second person, kinda angsty, experimental)

This one is by Cara as well.

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**Pretty Silver Thing**

You knew your father was a good man. He had loved your mother with all of his heart and he loved you too.

Half the time.

You could always tell if it would be heads before your daddy flipped it. When you could smell the alcohol, taste the smoke, see the swagger, hear the slur, feel the hot breath against your face… you knew... You knew the monster had entered your daddy. Because your daddy _loved _you and he could never hurt you. Never ever, _ever_.

"Headsh I teach you a leshon…" the monster wearing the face of your father would say and you would shut your eyes tight _tight __**tight**_, so tight that you couldn't see the monster flip the pretty silver coin up _up __**up**_ into the air, but you could hear it clatter on the ground and that was enough. You didn't need to peek open your eyes to know it was heads…

Because you felt the rough hands on you and could taste the blood in your mouth…

"Why do you make me do this Harvey?" Your daddy would say when the monster left, and if your eyes weren't swollen shut you would open them to see the tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry." You would say through bruised and bloodied lips, "I'm so sorry Daddy…"

Then, your daddy would hold you close and you knew the monster was gone.

For now.

It wasn't his fault. He didn't mean to do it. He didn't want to do it.

Your daddy had loved your mother so _**so**_ much, and it wasn't your daddy's fault, but when your mommy died (because she went out too late when all the bad people were around) a monster came inside him and sometimes made him do stuff that you_ knew_ he didn't want to do. Because your daddy _loved_ you.

You could tell when it would be heads before he even pulled it out. When your daddy smiled at you and smelled like the ocean… You knew.

"Heads I take you out for ice cream." Your daddy would say and you would watch with large fascinated eyes, that looked so _so_ blue next to the fading bruises, as the silver coin went _up_ _**up**_ and came _**down**_ _down _and landed on the palm of your daddy's hand. When your daddy flipped the coin over on to his tanned forearm you already knew what the answer would be even before he lifted up his hand to show the silver lady sparkling bright under the sunlight.

You knew your daddy didn't mean to hurt you. It wasn't your daddy's fault; it was the monster that did it. Sometimes it slipped inside your daddy and it was that **thing** that hurt you, _not_ your daddy.

It wasn't your daddy.

It _couldn't _be, because…

Because your daddy would never hurt you...

Because... because your daddy couldn't hurt you...

Because... because your daddy wouldn't because...

Because after the monster left your daddy was so _so_ nice and sweet and he would take you out for ice cream and pizza and let you play outside and your daddy would smile and laugh with you.

Sometimes when your daddy was real, _real_ happy he'd take you to the ocean and you could smell the salt and taste the sea. You knew your daddy loved you because he did stuff like that for you… He loved you as much as he could; sometimes the monster would take over… but deep down you knew it was your fault it did.

_You _turned your daddy into the monster. (It was all your fault.)

He wasn't the monster with his friends or anyone else, only with you… and you knew it was because it was _your _fault (and only your fault) your mommy died.

She was just going to walk to the store. It was only down the street, but all the bad people were out and she never made it that far. It was your fault and if you hadn't been hungry then she would never have gone out and the bad people wouldn't have taken her away from you and slipped the monster into your daddy.

It was your fault. And you deserved it.

The monster left your daddy for a while. Things were really nice, but then he lost his job and he lost his sweet and kind girlfriend and he started drinking more and more….

And the monster came back.

But, you were bigger. When you felt the hot breath against your face, heard the slur, saw the swagger, tasted the smoke, smelled the alcohol... You remembered.

You knew what would happen.

"Headsh I teach you a leshon." He said and you didn't care anymore you didn't give a _damn _if he was wearing your father's skin, because when the coin went _up_ **up** you didn't even wait for it to crashing back** down **_down_ before you punched him and held him against the wall with his windpipe under your fingers. You saw his eyes flicker and his skin take a sickly silverblue color until you let go and he fell and you stared at what you had done and half of you wanted to cry and the other wanted to crush out all the life inside of him.

You could taste the fear in your throat. Because there is nothing scarier than knowing what you don't want to. There was a monster inside you too, because you loved(hated) your father.. you did(n't) want to hurt him…. You would never hurt him. (You just did.)

So you pushed it down down _down_ **down** until it nearly disappeared and you lived your life and didn't let the monster come back. You went to college. You went to your father's funeral(and all he left you was a couple of thousand dollars in debt and the silver coin).

The silver coin with two heads.

You went to law school, got a job, moved to Gotham, and found Rachel. All the time you played with the coin because for some sick reason you loved it. It was all your father had left you.

And you loved(hated) your father.

But, then it happened. You heard her die, smelled the burning flesh, tasted the smoke, felt the unbearable pain, saw your future and your love ripped away from you...

Batman saved the wrong person. They had killed her and let you live. In the hopsital you had never felt so much hate before in your life. You felt it coming out and when you finally looked in the mirror you saw the monster your father must have seen inside you that night when you almost squeezed the life out of him; you knew what you needed to do.

Rachel was dead…

And you couldn't rest until you pulled the life out of all those responsible…

You felt the monster inside of you ripping itself up _up_ **up** your throat clawing its way to get out, but you wouldn't let it run rampant. You wouldn't let it take you over all the way(just half. Only half.)

...So you flipped the coin with its face scratched up to match yours… because at least they got half a chance…

It's more than you ever had.

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This story was rather hard to write. It made me feel.. really icky inside when I wrote it. D: So. Yeah please send a review. I'll try to reply to the signed ones or the ones that give me some way to contact the person.


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